


breakable heaven

by freedomatsea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Flashbacks, Mild Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, almost canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomatsea/pseuds/freedomatsea
Summary: A year following Voldemort's defeat, Hermione and Draco reunite at the Ministry of Magic and rekindle what was lost during the war.





	breakable heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Full Disclosure: I haven't written anything in the Harry Potter Universe in probably a decade (maybe more?) back when HPFF was a wondrous things. I've been bitten by the Dramione bug lately (I can't believe how long I've shipped them honestly) and I couldn't resist writing something. 
> 
> This is a mostly canon compliant fic. There's one deviating plot point, which is what sends the fic down the path it takes. I was attempting to write another Dramione fic, when this plot popped into my mind and it wouldn't let me go until I wrote it. 
> 
> Please be gentle, like I said it's my first dip back into this universe. If there's interest, I may develop this story further.

**May 31st 1999 **

“_Granger_.” 

The war was long over and her name on his tongue no longer tasted like poison. There was no chill running down his spine or fear sending him to cower in the shadow of his father. His father was locked behind heavy bars, magic enforced locks, and under the threat of looming Dementors. Lucious Malfoy couldn’t reach him now.

Draco swallowed thickly as he took in the sight of her. A year removed from the war had done _ wonders _ for the bags under her eyes — she was bright-eyed, refreshed, and still frustratingly lovely in her own way. 

“What are you doing _ here _ Draco?” Her lips curved upwards into the _ briefest _ of smiles and he latched on to that fleeting moment. 

“We can’t all have cushy Ministry jobs handed out to us, now can we?” Draco countered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he sauntered towards her. “Interview.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the office he had been waiting outside of.

“For the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?” Hermione blinked at him and then let out an incredulous laugh. “You are aware that this is where _ I _ work… right?” 

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “Might’ve been aware.” An easy smirk played over his lips and he caught her fighting another grin. This… _ this _ was easy without extenuating forces at work. “Truth be told, I applied for an MLE position. For obvious reasons they didn’t think I belonged in law enforcement.”

“Yes, well…” Hermione’s lashes fluttered as she blinked several times, her gaze flickering between the door and him. “I’m assisting with your interview apparently.” 

He pulled a hand from his pocket and raked it over his face. “You’re having one, Granger.” Draco scoffed. “You’re going to be interviewing _ me_?” 

“Assisting.” She clarified, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’ve been working in the Office of Misinformation since the war ended. They’re promoting me and I’m helping them find my replacement. A replacement who will be working directly _ under _ me.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Draco retorted without hesitation, just for the thrill of watching her fluster. 

“_Malfoy_!” She snarled and she looked tempted to strike him. “That is wildly inappropriate.” 

“You planning on disclosing to them that you _ can’t _ perform an unbiased interview, then?” 

Hermione’s skin flushed a dazzling shade of red. “I’ll do no such thing.” 

“So if I _ don’t _ get this job, you won’t mind me telling them that you and I have a _ history_?” Draco knew that was a low blow. As if anyone would believe that their Hogwarts encounters had been anything other than antagonistic. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hermione took a daring step forward, fixing him with a threatening look that was befitting of a Slytherin, not the Gryffindor’s Poster Girl. “You’d never admit to anyone that you’d snogged a _ Mudblood_.” 

_ Mudblood_.

There’s a word he hadn’t heard since his father had been free to roam through Malfoy Manor. Since Voldemort had kept a tight and deadly hold on Draco and everyone he cared about. Since his aunt’s shrill voice screamed it out as she etched it into Hermione’s flesh. 

“Looking a little grey there, Malfoy.” Hermione’s voice taunted. “Realizing what a terrible mistake that might be?”

Draco shook himself out of his thoughts. “I’ve made many mistakes in my life, Granger and that… was never one of them.” 

* * *

**June 1st 1997**

“It’s going to be okay.” Her voice felt both distant and near. The soft petting of her fingers over his forehead confirmed to him that she was in fact _ close _, but his hearing kept fading in and out. “You’ve just got to hold on, Malfoy. Professor Snape is doing all that he can.” 

The pain was unimaginable. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood, which he knew was his own. His clothes were soaked with it. 

Draco convulsed, writhing in her lap and he tried to focus on the pair of brown eyes staring down at him. There was a mass of unruly curls blocking out the light from the pale light fixture above them. Lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear what they’re saying.

_ Malfoy. Draco. Hold on. _

He could read her lips, but the pain made him wretch. 

There are tears, but he knew that they were not his own. Falling from above like rain. 

Everything blurred and faded into darkness. The Dark Mark on his forearm is burned like it was on fire, but even that was a mere shadow of the pain he felt where Potter had torn him open with the curse. 

Uncountable hours later he came to in an uncomfortable bed in the Hospital Wing. The light was warm and golden, the sunrise spilling through the ceiling-high windows along the walls. In a chair beside him sat the sleeping figure of Hermione Granger, who — much to his amusement had fallen asleep with a book clutched in her hands. 

The next time he awoke, it’s far less pleasant. Gone was the sleeping Granger and in her place were Crabb and Goyle bickering with one another, while Pansy’s grating voice begged them to _ stop_. 

Draco closed his eyes and wished he’d died instead. 

* * *

**June 1st 1999**

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.” Hermione snipped as she dropped a stack of paperwork onto his newly organized desk, sending his quill skittering onto the floor. 

“Oy!” Draco complained as he pulled out his chair and fished for the wayward quill. 

“I expect these to be sorted and ready for my review after lunch.” Hermione’s expression sobered him. 

“What are they?” He questioned as he took the first page off the stack, skimming over the test. 

“Honestly Malfoy, do you not know how to read?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s rather self explanatory. They’re claims that have come in concerning Muggles encountering _ our _ magical creatures. Sort them and toss out anything that isn’t relevant.” 

“Isn’t _ Bigfoot _ America’s problem?” Draco said as he held the memo out to her. 

“Spotted by a British diplomat.” Hermione gritted, placing the memo back on the stack of files. “At least try to do a good job.” 

“Yes boss.” Draco said as he set his jaw hard, as his gaze dropped to the pile of paperwork, rather than ogling her. If he wanted to impress her, it would have to be through hard work, rather than their typical bickering _ apparently_. 

* * *

**June 5th 1997 **

“_Granger_. I was hoping to find you here.” And _ mercifully _ alone. He’d seldom seen her without Potter and Weasley in tow.

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading. “I’m studying Draco. Perhaps _ you _ can get away with not studying for your exams by association alone, but some of us actually have to _ work _.” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before she dropped her gaze back to the book.

Draco sighed, trying to keep his temper in check. There was no need to throw barbing words at her. After all, he intended to _ thank _ her. ‘Thank Yous’ didn’t pair well with scathing remarks. 

He stepped towards the table, leaned across it and snatched the book out from under her nose.

“Malfoy!” She snarled and he swore she intended to climb over the table to get it back from him. Feral little Mudblood, that she was. “Give it back.” 

“You were reading this.” Draco stated as he examined the spine of the textbook and all of her fussing stopped. 

“You woke up?”

He nodded his head slowly. “Wish I’d woke up for good then. Next time around it was the lot of Slytherin having no respect for the nearly _ dearly departed_.” He held the book out to her. “Here.” 

Hermione grabbed the book back from him, her hand raking over his in the action. She stared at him. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Potter.” A brow quirked upwards. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone and followed me into the toilets like a perv.” Draco sneered. “Cast an awful curse and then… it’s hazy.” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip as he studied her. “You were there… _ after _. Petting my hair, holding my hand while… Snape tended to the wounds.” 

Hermione nodded. “I followed Harry and found you. Snape must’ve been nearby because he beat me there.” She frowned, “There was so much blood.” Her gaze fell to his stomach and he absentmindedly ran his hand over one of the newly formed scars. 

“Well,” He cleared his throat and extended his hand to her. “Don’t expect this sort of thing to happen again. So enjoy it while it lasts.”

She warily took ahold of his hand. “Yes?”

“Thank you, _ Hermione_.” 

She smiled warmly at him, “You’re welcome, Draco.” 

“It’s my birthday.” Draco blurted out, feeling oddly like a foolish school boy with a crush and _ not _ the young man who had been ordered to murder Albus Dumbledore. 

“Is it?” Hermione hadn’t let go of his hand. “And you’re here with me in the library instead of celebrating with your friends? I would’ve thought the entire Slytherin common room would be singing your praises tonight.”

Draco pursed his lips and shook his head. “Is that what you Gryffindor think we do in there?”

“I bet you’d love to hear what stories filter out of there.” She snorted rather ungracefully and pulled her hand away. “I need to study, Malfoy.” 

“Right.” Draco dropped his hand and took an awkward step backwards from the table. “I’m sure your lackies aren’t far behind.”

Hermione looked up at him as she sat down, reaching to the chair beside her and pulling it out. “You can stay if you’d like. I have it on good authority that Harry is trying to woo someone tonight so you shouldn’t have to worry about him _ or _ Ron showing up. Neither are very big on studying this term.” 

Draco moved around the table and sat down beside her. His smile revealed his gratitude towards her. 

* * *

**June 5th 1999 **

Hermione entered his office with a stack of files and dropped them on his desk.

Draco looked up briefly before he returned to the transcription he was busily working on. “Yes, yes. Files sorted and to you by lunch. Got it.” 

“Actually,” Hermione started and her voice betrayed her with a slight warble. “Do you have lunch plans today?” 

He arched a brow. “I’ll have to check. You know me, constantly weeding through lunch offers.” Draco pursed his lips, made a scene of checking his calendar before he looked back to her. He heard her mutter ‘_ prat _’ under her breath. “Would you look at that? I’m free.”

“It’s your birthday.” 

He swore his heart stopped. “You remembered.” 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “Of course I did.” 

* * *

**June 5th 1997**

“How does it feel to finally be seventeen?” Hermione questioned as she leaned an elbow on the desk and turned to look at him. 

“Honestly?” Draco watched her nod. “_ Horrible _. Everything is horrible this year.” He wanted to tell her. Wanted to confess his future sins and beg her to forgive him in advance. But she’d tell Potter and then he’d fail and then… he’d be another burnt name on his family’s tapestry. 

“I saw it.” Hermione said quietly, her eyes falling on his left arm. “When Snape and I were trying to save you. I saw it.” She rubbed her lips together thoughtfully and then lifted her gaze to meet his. “I haven’t told anyone. I don’t plan to.”

“Not even Potter?”

“Especially not Potter.” Hermione laughed bitterly. “Snape explained some things to me. I am sorry that you’re at an impasse.” 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

She nodded. “I know.” Hermione reached out and rested her hand over his. “You’re such a bright wizard. You and I could give the wizarding world a run for the money, you know. I knew something was wrong when you stopped attending classes. You’ve been my direct competition since we were eleven and then suddenly… It isn’t fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair.” Draco sighed. “I’ll be dead or in Azkaban before this is through. I won’t need an education for that.” 

“It’s your father, isn’t it?” Hermione questioned with a grimace. 

Draco sniffed and looked away. “You wouldn’t understand. I have the weight of _ generations _ of pureblood heritage on my shoulders.” 

Hermione pulled her hand away from his, but he caught it before she could pull it away entirely. “It’s all about blood isn’t it? It’s all about being superior to the rest of us.”

“_ No _. It’s…” Draco squeezed her hand tightly. “You should’ve just left me to die.” 

She turned to face him in her chair, shaking her head slowly. “You deserve to live, Draco. You’re too much of a bloody nuisance to go down without a fight.”

Draco stared at her, letting her words sink into his skin. What would his father think if he could see him now? If his father knew what he was contemplating. He would fail at his mission and he would die and he wasn’t willing to go without knowing. 

He closed the distance between them, his chair scraping against the stone floor beneath them as he moved closer to her. He cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. She was frozen for mere seconds before her mouth moved against his. 

In another life, this might’ve been the beginning of _ something_. 

* * *

**June 5th 1999**

“How are you enjoying working at the Ministry?” Hermione questioned, which was a painfully safe topic to stick to as she pushed her fork around in her bowl of salad. 

“Oh, my boss is completely mental.” Draco said in an entirely serious tone. “She’s a control freak. Think she knows _ everything _.” He forked up a few pieces of lettuce and smirked at her before he took his bite. “It’s been fine, Granger. It keeps me busy.”

“Do you actually _ need _ to work or is this just to pass the time?” She arched a brow. “I don’t think I pictured you playing paper pusher.” 

“Reparations put a damper on my family’s accounts.” Draco answered with a shrug. “We’ve still got plenty in our reserves and assets, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. I’m still dealing with the occasional summons from the Wizengamot to straighten out legal matters.” 

“Is the Imperius Curse still holding up?” 

He nodded. “It doesn’t hurt that the Golden Trio spoke on my behalf.” 

Hermione smiled a little as she looked down at her salad, “I did what I could. Were you actually under the Imperius Curse?”

Draco bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. He stared at her for a very long moment before he shook his head. “If I had been, I would’ve murdered Dumbledore when Voldemort ordered me to. I had a choice, like you told me I did.” He rested his hands in his lap as he looked across the table at her. “The Imperius Curse was the easiest answer for the courts. I never murdered anyone, I hardly followed my orders as a Death Eater, and in the end I _ did _ help at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Hermione laughed. “Did you now?”

“I was wandless. But I did try.” Draco reached for his mead and took a sip. 

There was a moment of silence that fell between them, before Hermione spoke again. “Rumor around the office is that you’re seeing the younger Greengrass sister.” 

Straight to the point. Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s terribly dull.” And that was the honest truth. He’d done it to make his _ mother _ happy. Even from Paris, where she’d chosen to self-exile herself, she was keen to see her son _ succeed _. “Aren’t you with Weasel?”

She sighed and primly wiped at the corner of her lips with her napkin. “Not really. We took a break after the war and things are just… _ friendly_.” 

“He’s an Auror, yeah?” Draco questioned as he swirled the mead in his glass. 

Hermione nodded. “So _ are _ you seeing Astoria?” 

Draco sat his glass down and sank back in his seat. “We’ve been out twice and I fully intend to leave it at that.” He met her eyes across the table. “I’m not looking for someone who agrees with everything I say.” 

“I’m your direct superior,” Hermione rested her elbow on the table and propped her chin up with her palm. “Not to mention… I know your father is in Azkaban, but I wouldn’t put it past him to find a way to come after me for tarnishing your precious family name with my Mud-”

He held up his hand to keep her from finishing. “You do realize I’m working with Muggle related cases now, right? Have you heard me utter that _ once _ since I started working for the Ministry? Since the war ended? Since… we kissed?” Draco was laying all of his cards on the table. “It killed me to know what my aunt had carved it into your skin. Seeing you on the floor, writhing in pain.”

Draco knocked back the rest of his mead and _ wished _ it was firewhiskey. Something stronger.

“I wanted to return the favor, cradle your head and try to soothe you, but… I was a coward.” His chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood. “I should’ve known this was a mistake.” 

He reached into his robes and pulled out enough galleons to cover their lunch, dropping them onto the table before he made quick work of his retreat. But she didn’t let him go. Hermione followed him out of the restaurant, across the grand atrium, and towards the fountain. 

“Draco, _ wait_!” 

He reeled around, glaring at her. “What do you want?”

Hermione launched herself at him, hands on either side of his face as her lips met his. His arms snaked around her middle and he refused to let her go. Not this time. He held her tightly, his mouth slanting over hers. His tongue delved between her lips, tangling with hers. 

Draco resisted the urge to let his hands wander, recalling that they were stood in the middle of the atrium, snogging each others faces off. Reluctantly, he pulled back. “Have we drawn a crowd?” He quipped, looking to the left of them. 

Hermione blushed. “I cast a glamour.” She explained as she rested her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t think either of us want to lose our jobs for inappropriate displays of affection.” 

He smirked. “I’d always hoped to go out with a bang.” Draco licked his lips. “Then again, you and I are still due to take the wizarding world by storm.” 

She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t believe I meant by publicly snogging!” Hermione stole one more quick kiss before she let go of him. “Happy birthday, Draco.” 

* * *

**June 14th 1997**

“You weren’t in class again.” Hermione pursed her lips and have him a _ very _ disapproving look. “Did you get any sleep last night?” 

Draco shook his head and leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek. “Nightmares.” He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“I could whip you up a potion. Something to help ease you to sleep.” She kissed him gently. “Would you like that?”

“It wouldn’t be worth your time.” He grumbled and he gripped at her hip. “Don’t worry about me, Hermione.”

Her fingers gingerly played through his hair, “This is madness, Draco. _ Madness_.” She leaned back against the stone wall behind her, her eyes raking over his face as he stared at her. 

“It’s almost over, Granger. Then you won’t have to _ worry _ about your little illicit affair with a Slytherin.” He spat out, turning his gaze away from her. “Whatever would your _ friends _ think about this?”

“Oh, shut up Malfoy.” Hermione rolled her eyes, curling her fingers around his tie as she tugged him forward and silenced him with a kiss. 

Draco dragged the fabric of her skirt up at her hip, his fingers stroking over bare flesh as he pressed her back against the wall. 

In those dark days, Hermione had proven herself the brightest point in his life. It was a secret, hurried encounters in between classes — stolen moments in the library under the guise of _ studying_.

No one would’ve suspected the pair of them, but Hermione was _ insistent _ that they ought to continue acting like they always had. 

Their classmates believed she was casually dating Cormac McLaggen — a plan concocted by her own devious mind. She should’ve been a Slytherin with how cunning she could be. Utterly terrifying too.

Draco continued to see Pansy, though she seemed miffed whenever he turned down her affection. He was stressed. Teetering on the precipice of Voldemort’s plans. He couldn’t be distracted.

By anyone other than Hermione Granger. 

* * *

**June 30th 1997**

His fate was decided for him. Dumbledore was dead. Voldemort publicly lauded him for the victory. 

Hermione knew the truth. Her eyes said it all as she watched him stiffly walk across the grounds to join his parents, the Death Eaters, Voldemort. 

It would’ve hurt less, had Voldemort torn his heart out of his body instead. 

* * *

**June 10th 1999**

“Good morning Miss Granger.” Draco said chipperly as he walked through the corridor, heading towards his office. 

“Morning Malfoy.” Hermione barely concealed her smile as their eyes met, lingering until she _ had _ to turn her attention back to the secretary she was speaking with. 

Draco popped down at his desk and mulled through the memos that were already mounting on his desk. At least six of the memos pertained to vampires who had made themselves far too visible in central London — apparently, _ some _Muggles were fans of the miserable blood suckers. 

“Capture and _ obliviate_.” He muttered to himself as he gathered the memos together and wrote out his recommendation. 

Hermione appeared in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. “Harry and Ginny are getting married this weekend.”

“Bully for them,” Draco said dryly as he tried to keep his expression unreadable as he shuffled through papers. “The vampires are at it again. We’ll need to act on it sooner, rather than later.”

“I’m in the wedding party.”

“I would’ve assumed so.” He arched a brow and stared at her. “I do believe there was a lovely blurb about it in the Prophet yesterday. Lilac, right? The bridal party colours.”

Hermione pursed her lips and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Must you always be an insufferable prick, Draco?” She stepped further into the office and shut the door behind her. 

“Yes, it’s simply part of who I am.” He shrugged. “Part of my charms.” Draco cocked his head to the side as he leaned back in his chair. “I suppose Weasel King will be there?”

She rolled her eyes. “Would you like to come with me?”

“_ What _ ?” Draco sat forward, eyes going wide. “I’m fairly certain Potter doesn’t want _ me _ crashing his wedding.”

Hermione moved to perch on the edge of his desk, her hands resting in her lap. “I want you there.”

“You just don’t want to field off _ his _ advances.”

“_Obviously_.” Hermione scoffed. “It’s much easier to say ‘ _ no _’ when you’re not alone.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m certain I can tell him I’m seeing someone, but I’d rather have the person I’m seeing with me.”

“I thought we were a secret.” Draco pressed his lips together, brows furrowed together. “Won’t the papers be curious as to why your employee is accompanying you?”

“I don’t care.” Hermione said simply. “We’re not at Hogwarts anymore. The war is over, there are no sides to worry about.”

“I’m quite certain your friends won’t see it that way, Hermione.” Draco raked his fingers through his hair. “There’s still a line drawn in the sand. You lot are on one side and I’m firmly on the other side.”

She canted her head to the side, her lips drawn downwards. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe _ you _ still don’t want to be seen with me.”

“It’s not…” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve still got something good. Don’t sully yourself with the likes of me.”

Hermione sighed, “Come with me as a friend.”

He gave her a droll expression. “I’m sure they’ll certainly believe _ that_.”

“We work together.” Hermione reminded him, gesturing between them. “We’ve had lunch together every day since your birthday. That’s _ friendly _.”

“We’ve also shagged twice this week.” Draco narrowed his eyes. 

“You’re _ horrible. _” Hermione huffed, sliding off the desk.

Draco caught her arm, looking up at her. “I’ll think about it.”

Hermione smiled brightly at him, bending down to kiss him. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t agreed yet!” Draco protested with a short laugh. 

“_ Lavender _ will look lovely with green.” She gently rested her hand on the curve of his neck. 

“I knew it was an ‘_l _’.” He leaned up and kissed her hotly. “Dinner tonight?”

Hermione patted his cheek, “If that’s my penance for you attending the wedding, then of course.”

In five short days, he was fairly certain he’d fallen madly in love with her. Or maybe he’d never _ stopped _ since their sixth year. 

* * *

**June 13th 1999**

“Having fun?” Hermione teased as she sat down beside him at the table, easily lacing their fingers together as she reached for her glass of champagne.

“I’ve been making nice with bloody Longbottom for the past thirty minutes.” He grimaced and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Are _ you _ having fun?”

She slid her fingers in between his. “You’re here, so yes.”

“The brood of flaming redheads seems rather offended by my presence.” He reaches for his own champagne and sipped at it. “Can’t help but wonder if you dragged me along just to put the last nails in that coffin.”

“I’ll admit,” Hermione leaned towards him and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I did catch wind that Ron intended to try to win back my affections.” 

“Cunning little minx.”

“Mhm.” Hermione hummed. “But he can’t win something that was never his to begin with.”

Draco lifted their hands and kissed the back of hers. “Potter was even pleasant with me.”

“I told him I was happy with you.” Hermione turned her head and kissed his neck, nuzzling her nose against him. “He was skeptical, but accepting.”

“Are you?”

“I am.” She pulled back and looked at him. “I would’ve thrown it all away for you in sixth year, Draco. You were a very convincing tragedy.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“So am I.” Hermione squeezed his hand gently. “I almost suggested that we run away. But I knew that Voldemort would find you, no matter where we went.”

Draco kissed the top of her head. “I appreciate the thought.”

“How long has _ this _ been going on?” Ron questioned as he sat down at their empty table, his eyes darting between them with bitter furry. 

“A week.” Draco answered, narrowing his eyes at the man. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hermione would _ never _ lower herself—”

“That’s _ enough _, Ronald.” Hermione said sharply. 

“What’s he got on you?” Ron didn’t know how to stop, apparently. Draco had learned — a long time ago — not to mess with Granger. 

“No one has anything on anyone.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Please don’t start something. For Harry and Ginny’s sake.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d be parading around with him, ‘Mione.” Ron’s fingers curled into fists on the table. “Is it a love potion?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s bleeding sake.” Hermione laughed harshly and sat up straighter. “Draco and I are seeing each other. You’ll just have to get over it.”

“After everything he’s done? After everything he’s said?” Ron pled with her. “You must realize this is madness! He’s Malfoy!”

“Not now.” 

“You and I had it good, didn’t we?” His voice cracked. “After Cormac and Lavender… We were good together.”

Draco snorted. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Hermione’s cheeks burned hot. “Ron, you were a _ lovely _rebound. The war was trying and it was nice to have someone, but…” 

Draco shook his head, “You don’t have to, love.”

“No, I _ am _.” Hermione pressed, her eyes watery as she turned to look at him. 

“I didn’t realize things were so serious with Cormac that you considered me a rebound.” Ron spat out, hitting his fist against the table.

“She wasn’t _ with _ Cormac, you fucking fool.” Draco hissed out. “She was with me!”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “_What_?”

“It was only a month.” Hermione explained quietly. “Neither of us expected it to happen and… now we can actually _ be _ together.”

Ron stared at her. “All that time we were together, I thought you were still pining over bloody Krum.”

Draco squeezed her hand reassuringly. “This isn’t about you, Weasel. Don’t make it about you.”

“I can’t even believe what I’m hearing.” He stood up, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste. “I need a bloody drink.”

“Well.” Hermione swallowed thickly. “I guess everyone will know now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She held his hand tightly as she stood up, urging him to join her. “Dance with me.”

“_Okay_.” Draco smiled warmly at her. Whatever she wanted. He’d do it. 

* * *

**June 15th 1999**

Draco brooded as he stared down at the article in the Daily Prophet. _ OFFICE ROMANCE OR DEVIOUS LOVE POTION SCHEME? HAS GRANGER GOT A TASTE OF HER OWN MEDICINE? _

Honestly, he deserved this. He’d been the one to feed Rita false information in their fifth year. The love potion scheme, was all because of him to begin with. 

“This is horrifying.” Hermione sipped her tea. “How am I expected to walk into work today with everyone wondering if I’ve used a love potion on my _ employee _?”

“Hopefully they’d know you better than that.” Draco pursed his lips as he stared at the picture of them — the moment where they had kissed while dancing played over and over again. 

“It’s mortifying Draco.”

“I know.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and tugged at the strands as they slipped through. “We should’ve known that Rita would ruin this.”

“Nothing is ruined.” Hermione insisted. “We’re still good. We just have to deal with journalists making a mockery of us.”

“You can’t blame them. Without our backstory, I doubt anyone would understand the Golden Girl flirting around with an ex-Death Eater.” He sighed heavily. 

“I don’t care what anyone understands.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s none of their business.” Hermione snatched the newspaper from him and with a flick of her wand it caught fire and burnt to ash. 

“The sorting hat got it wrong, Granger. You’re a Slytherin.”

“If I were a Slytherin, Rita wouldn’t be writing at all.” Hermione fumed. “As it is, I’ll be paying her a visit. She’s forgotten what I have on her, clearly.”

Draco leaned back in the chair, a brow arched upwards at her. “What do you have on her?”

She smirked. “That’s my hand of cards to play.”

“That’s my _ clever _ girl.”

“She should’ve known better.” Hermione pressed her lips together and stared at him for a long moment. “We’ll keep our distance today. No lunch. I don’t want this nonsense distracting from our co-workers.”

“Won’t that look _ more _ suspicious?” Draco questioned, steepling his hands. “Are you _ ashamed _ of me, Granger?” He tried not to sound wounded. But he was. 

“It’s not that.” Hermione assured him, her voice wavering. “I knew we’d be seen at the wedding. I even mentally prepared for gossip in the papers. But I hadn’t expected her to stoop so low as to claim I’m drugging you.” 

“I know.” Draco nodded his head slowly. “I know you plan to handle things your own way, but perhaps I could pen a rebuttal?” 

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would,” He rubbed at his temples before he rose to his feet. “I could always come out and clear up the fact that I was the one who planted that false story about you and Potter in fifth year.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“Jealousy.” He shrugged a shoulder and flicked his wand to bring his dishes with him to the kitchen sink. “And to watch Potter squirm.”

“It was a rotten thing to do.”

He scoffed. “I’m a rotten man, Granger.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Let’s not forget you’re the scheming bint with blackmail.” He wagged a finger at her. 

“Are you going to confirm that we’re together?”

“Do you want me to?”

Hermione hesitated and then nodded. “Yes.”

Draco’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “I’ll clarify the love potion claim and inform her that you and I are embarking in a new relationship. I’m sure she’ll love the intrigue of it all.”

“Perhaps leave out the part where we were together before.”

“I hadn’t planned to tell her.” Draco was certain Rita wouldn’t be able to control herself with _ that _ piece of news. It was best to let the past stay there. “I might confess I fancied you at Hogwarts. That massive _ brain _ of yours.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, moving to join him at the sink, slipping her arms around his waist. “Maybe one day I’ll confess the same.” She leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “We should get to work.”

* * *

**April 12th 1998**

Draco had never been well disciplined in the art of self-control. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and shield her from the pain his aunt inflicted on her. She was going to kill her. 

Hermione was too bloody stubborn to give into the brutal interrogation. Bellatrix truly had no self-control. She was in it for the thrill of inflicting pain. 

Draco felt the bile rise in his throat, he covered his mouth and he rushed from the room. He couldn’t play this game. He couldn’t stand by and watch them torture her. 

Did they _ know_? Was that why he was asked to observe the interrogation? To torture him too? 

It made him sick. 

* * *

**June 19th 1999**

“Bloody hell.” Draco hissed as the red envelope wafted in through his office door. He grabbed his wand off the desk, quickly flicking his wrist to shut the office door and silence it just before the Howler opened and his mother’s voice filled the room. 

“_ The Daily Prophet _ was delivered this morning. As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a thrilling article about your apparent tryst with Ms. Granger. Including several damning quotes from you confirming your relationship. Just because your father is locked away in Azkaban, doesn’t mean you’re free to sully our name further with this Muggle-Born. Please reconsider Miss Greengrass. I’m certain she’ll forgive this media blunder.”

Draco rolled his eyes and snatched the Howler from the air, using the same spell that Hermione had used to set the Daily Prophet on fire. He had no interest in hearing the rest of what she had to say. 

He should’ve known it would happen sooner, rather than later. If their first article following Potter’s wedding hadn’t drawn attention from his mother, the article Rita ran that morning had been certain to. 

_ WAR HERO AND WAR CRIMINAL FIND LOVE IN THE RUINS OF VOLDEMORT’S TERROR. _

The article in _Witch Weekly _was far less sensationalized. 

_ LOVE BLOSSOMED AT POTTER-WEASLEY WEDDING. DRACO MALFOY CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP WITH ONE THIRD OF THE GOLDEN TRIO. _

A knock at his door pulled his focus back to the present. Draco looked up and smiled as he saw Hermione in the threshold. 

“Is there a reason you’ve used Quietus?” She questioned as she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. 

“Howler from my mother.” His smile fell into a solemn frown. “She’s disappointed.”

“Of course she is.” Hermione pressed her back against the door and stared at him. “And?”

Draco shrugged. “She can fuss all she wants from Paris. I don’t give a flying hippogriff.” 

Her lashes fluttered and she lowered gaze. “What did she say?”

“That Astoria would forgive this ‘media blunder’ and she insisted I was fooling around with you because my father’s locked away.” Draco raked his hand over his face, letting out an exaggerated sigh before he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “I’ll handle it.”

Hermione looked up at him as he stopped in front of her. “We should’ve never told Ron that we were together at Hogwarts.”

Draco slid his hands into his pants pockets, his shoulders sagging as he nodded his head. “Luckily, I doubt anyone will believe a jilted lover’s story. May make for entertaining tales, but I have a feeling Rita will use more discretion. She’s terrified of you, you know.”

“She should be.” Hermione laughed and sank back against the door. “But you’re right, no one would believe that story. You had Pansy and I was with McLaggen.”

Draco pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Pansy might be an issue.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“It’s not like it matters.” Draco waved his hand, “If people want to believe you and I were getting off in the broom closet while we were at Hogwarts, I hope they have a bloody field day with it.”

“I’m already walking on eggshells, Draco.” Hermione snapped. “What does Pansy know?”

“I put her off quite a bit.” Draco scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, releasing it with a _ pop_. “Between the stress of being a Death Eater, familial issues, and… being content with you, I wasn’t interested in what she was offering.” He rolled his shoulders back and fixed her with a look. 

“Then let’s hope they don’t question McLaggen either or we’re both _ screwed _ .” Hermione shoved at his chest gently and he curled an arm around her waist and drew her towards him. “This is madness, isn’t it? _ Us_.” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Draco leaned in and kissed her softly, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “I don’t care who we piss off with this, Hermione. I’m not letting you go this time.” 

* * *

**December 31st 1999**

“Your people sure do seem to think the world’s ending tonight.” Draco remarked as he laid _ The Daily Mail _ down on the kitchen table, admiring Hermione as she strode into the kitchen, dressed in a green satin dress. 

“_My _ people.” Hermione scoffed. “I didn’t realize that the wizarding world put much stock in the threat of a new millennium.” She smoothed her hands over the satin at her hips, before she moved to straighten his tie for him. “I thought they’d be more alarmed by the fact that we’re fast approaching seven months.” 

Draco chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure that’s still an ever present torment in their minds.” 

“I believe Harry lost a sizable bet with Ginny over us.” Hermione said with a smirk. “Serves him right, thinking we wouldn’t make it to Christmas.” 

He took her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If only he knew.” 

“If we tell _ anyone _ you know it’ll be splashed across the _ Society _ pages before we even get a chance to make a statement.” 

Draco let out an exaggerated sigh, “Trust me. I’m aware.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I just want it to be our secret for a little while longer.” Hermione rested her hands on his shoulders as she met his gaze. “I even contemplated using a resizing charm so I could wear it on any other finger.” 

“I don’t need everyone to see a ring to know you’re mine, Granger.” Draco gave her a wry grin, dipping in to steal a kiss, before he pulled back. 

“Are you still going to call me Granger once we get married?” 

He squeezed her hand as he walked backwards, guiding them towards the front door. “I’ve considered it. You’ll always be Granger to me, because that’s who I fell in love with.”

“You keep saying things like that and we will _ not _ make it to the party.” 

Draco pulled her towards him and kissed her, “I love you, Hermione.” 

She curled a hand around the back of his neck, grinning against his lips. “I love you too.” Hermione kissed him once more. “Now let’s go ring in the new year, _ Malfoy_.” 

“_Granger_.” 


End file.
